degree unexampled since the days of the decay of the Roman Empire. His
freakishness, the suddenness of his impulses, are becoming enough to
create dismay amongst all those who approach him. One day he will
suddenly start off to take by surprise the garrisons of Potsdam and of
Rinfueld; he gives the order for boots and saddles, which naturally leads
to innumerable accidents. Next day you will find him issuing a decree
that, a play written by one of his _protégés_, entitled _The New
Saviour_, is a masterpiece, which he would compel the public to applaud.
The best he can do with it is to prevent its being hissed off the stage.
Another day he has a room prepared for himself at the Headquarters of the
General Staff, where he interferes in the preparation of strategic plans,
without paying the least attention to the new chief who has replaced
Count Waldersee. Then, again, he connects his private office with the
entire Press organisation, so as to be able to manipulate the reptile
fund himself, and to dictate in person the notices he requires,
concerning all his proceedings, in the newspapers which he pays in
Germany and in those which he buys abroad.

All of a sudden it occurs to him that six more war-ships would round off
the German Fleet; and so he demands that they be built on the spot. His
Minister resists, pointing out that the approval of the Reichstag is
required, William II flies into a passion, and the wretched Minister
obeys. Suddenly it occurs to him also to remember the existence of a
certain Count Vedel, greatly favoured by the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar.
He summons him by telegraph, and makes him his favourite of an hour.
When it pleases him to remove a superior officer, or to put one on the
shelf, nothing stops him, neither the worth of the man, nor the value of
the services he may have rendered. One can readily conceive that German
generals live in a state of perpetual fright. Add to all this that
William is becoming impecunious. He has taken to borrowing, and is